Mantarra's Tale
by LuciusDivius
Summary: Co-authored with Murlyndsgirl. The Kingdom of Mantarra had long been a thorn in the Federation's side. A former colony world that broke with the Federation and allied itself with the Klingon Empire, it was a study in contrasts. As racial tensions and covert operations were threatening to destroy both the Federation and the Empire, Mantarra was about to become the fulcrum of change.
1. Chapter 1

The king is dead; long live the king. That was the pass phrase of the day all through the kingdom, even here in the fully modern city of New London. Not everyone was happy with which king was dead though they were careful to show due respect and offer homage in light of the terrible wrath that Fleet Admiral Kalahad visited upon his home planet and his brother for daring to rise up against Prince Merlyn and purge the kingdom of all those who could practice magic. Many had died when the warriors of Kalahad arrived to rescue Prince Merlyn and deal with the traitorous king and archbishop. Gwydion was an utter fool, Kalahad snorted. To think that his twin brother had brought such dishonor to their line. How had it come to this; brother against brother? Those damned religious! Always so sure that they were right, that their ways and beliefs were the only acceptable and true ways and oh so quick to condemn to death any who were different. Merlyn lay now in the hospital, tended to by Master Anthony and Doctor Ellis.

For now, Kalahad was in charge without question. Merlyn was grievously injured. Young Kelson too was injured, though it was a well-earned warrior's wound, gotten in the push to free Merlyn from his jailors. He was to be the next king, but until the parliament met and the coronation was performed, Kelson had gladly yielded authority to his uncle, Kalahad, who had promptly confined him to Kalahad's quarters on his flagship. Kelson's younger brother, Korvath, only 12 years old, had been taken from his mother and placed with Lord James Kirk-Kehar in Glastonbury for safe-keeping, at least until Kalahad could determine how much taint the brothers carried from their father's, and the church's, intolerance and hatred. As for their mother… she too disliked the magic that ran in the family line. Did she believe, as the church taught, that it was dark and evil, leading straight to hell? Did she conspire with her husband to commit genocide on his own people? Kalahad was determined to find out for certain. A knock on the door broke off his brooding thoughts.

"Come."

"You sent for me, Fleet Admiral?"

"Yes. Kalel epetai-Kehar, I have a task for you to do for the good of this kingdom. I must know whether Queen Bet'lahr was conspiring with her husband and the church. By any means at your disposal, is that clear? I will not leave my young nephews with a disloyal mother who will turn on her own young one day."

"I understand," Kalel answered. "I will find this out, Fleet Admiral."

"Then go. She is locked in her quarters under my personal guards."

As soon as Kalel had left, Kalahad strode from the office he had claimed and went directly to the medical center. Master Ellis was at the desk, coordinating the staff and the healer apprentices like the master tactician that he was. Kalahad greatly admired Ellis and his counterpart, the brash Admiral Kincaid, both of whom harbored a dark streak in their personalities, though Kincaid's was considerably darker. Fitting for a warrior.

"I have come to check on Merlyn," Kalahad said as he reached the central station.

"He's still in critical condition," Ellis answered, fury at what had been done to the prince raging in his eyes. "Master Anthony says that he will survive and recover though it may be a long healing period."

"Take me to him."

Ellis got up and led the way through a couple of restricted access corridors to a room that had a retinal lock and let him in.

Anthony looked up, fully alert and clearly as furious as Ellis at Merlyn's condition. Good, Kalahad thought. He is as clear-headed as Ellis is about magical abilities.

"He's conscious but not clear-headed. I've given him some heavy painkillers. You should let him rest," Anthony said sharply, not quite ready to order Kalahad away but clearly desiring to protect his patient.

"I only wish to speak to him for a moment, Healer. Brother to brother."

Anthony nodded and moved away to stand with Ellis by the door as Kalahad took his place at the bedside.

"Merlyn, my brother, I am so sorry for what Gwydion and the Archbishop have done to you. I am sorry I did not arrive sooner. Perhaps if I had…"

"You arrived," Merlyn said weakly, tightening his grip on his elder brother's hand. "The Maker has his own timing. The boys? Did they survive?" he asked urgently. "The Archbishop swore to strike them down and put another in their place."

"They live, brother. Kelson has become a warrior, taking a wound in the fight to free you. It is not serious but will leave him a fine scar. Korvath was unharmed. Rest easy."

"Avalon?"

"It has been through the refiner's fire. Many were lost but as a whole, it has survived. They gave their lives to hold while those who could not fight fled to the Giant's Dance. I will remain here until the kingdom is secure, however long that takes. Now, I must leave you to rest. I can feel the healer's evil eye from here."

Merlyn gave a weak chuckle and tightly gripped his brother's hand once more before closing his eyes and letting the drugs take him to sleep.

"You have what you need to defend him?" Kalahad demanded of the two healers.

"Kincaid made sure of it," Ellis answered, his eyes promising death to any that dared make a try on Prince Merlyn's life here in his hospital.

"Kai Kincaid," Kalahad answered with approval. "Keep me informed on his condition. I must speak with my nephew."

Kalahad went directly to the Admiralty and beamed up to his ship, _IKV Devastator_. After a brief check with his executive officer, he went to his quarters, finding Kelson staring out the port at the planet below.

"Why have you brought me here, Uncle?" Kelson asked as he turned around respectfully. "As the heir, I should be in Camelot."

"I am here to be sure that the remaining members of our line are honorable, nephew," Kalahad said, crossing the room to pour them both a finger of saurian brandy. "I cannot allow you to claim the throne until I know if you are truly your father's son," he added, holding out the glass of brandy to his nephew.

Kelson bristled indignantly, little flares of magical aura lighting up around him. "Do you mean to seek the throne yourself?"

"Perhaps I will set Korvath on the the throne in your place," Kalahad taunted deliberately. "He is young enough to be taught the proper ways of honor. I am not so certain about you. You should have been a man years ago and yet you have just now achieved that status. How should your people make vows to an untried man-child and trust him to do honorably by them? How shall I, the head of our line, entrust you with its future? With my brother? With the children of my sisters? Tell me, Kelson, son of the traitor Gwydion, why should I trust you?"

Kelson's indignation drained away as he realized what Kalahad meant. "You think that I believe my father's rhetoric? I do not. I thought that you realized that when I fought at your side to free Merlyn."

"You are young but you are intelligent. That could have been a strategy to stand with the side that is winning rather than any deep convictions of your own," Kalahad said, continuing to bait him into fully speaking his mind. "I know that as crown prince you are raised with full religious education and the presence of the Archbishop in Camelot to fill your ears with ideas and temptations. The promise of the power of kingship has been granted to you simply because of birth order instead of by trial or rite of passage; such things corrupt a young and impressionable mind, nephew."

"You speak truth, Uncle," Kelson acknowledged. "Power and riches corrupt the mind and soul. Along with fear. That is what my father and the archbishop used to poison the minds of the people. I do not believe as they did. I do not believe that magic is evil, any more than I believe that this dagger is evil. It is the intent of the mind that uses the ability or tool that turns it for good or for ill. For all the fear mongering rhetoric the church has preached, it has been the church that has committed the most evil acts in the name of Light and the Maker. May the Maker judge their souls."

Kalahad was using his own abilities, limited though they were, and could read the truth of Kelson's words, could see the anguish for his people and the fury at the traitors in his clenched fists and stiff stance.

"What of your abilities, nephew? Magic runs deep in the Pendragon line and I have already seen that you have it. Have you learned anything of it? How to wield it? When not to?"

"Not as much as I would have liked," Kelson admitted. "Stolen lessons with brothers from the Circle of Avalon posing as castle servants is all that I've had. Korvath has had nothing at all; he's been kept so tightly clasped to Mother's side. Prince Merlyn was banned from the castle when Korvath was four years old and my powers were just beginning to show. They thought that not teaching me would be enough to stop it. Magical potential is there as raw power; to remain untaught would have far worse consequences than being taught to control it properly. Besides, what a waste of a rare gift from the Maker. It's like casting his gift on the floor at his feet."

Kalahad sighed. "I cannot leave you to rule alone, Kelson. You haven't had the training you should have had and I do not yet know which of your lords will fully support you. Especially not while Merlyn is injured."

"What do the healers say about him?"

"He will recover they say but it will take time. I expect his spirit will need time to recover as well; many died in Avalon.

"You need to learn how to rule as a man. I will find a placement for you to do so. Do well and I will gladly stand at your side when you are coronated king."

"What of Korvath?"

"I will see to his teaching as well. He is safe with Lord James and Lady E'Katerina in Glastonbury. You will remain here tonight. Tomorrow you may go to your brother."

Kelson did not look pleased with this plan but Kalahad knew he had made the right decision when the new king did not challenge his decision.

"Do you require a servant?"

"No, Uncle. I can fend for myself."

"That is good. Rest your shoulder and try to sleep. Keep the door locked. I will return in the morning."

Kalahad waited in the corridor until the door lock keyed then returned to the planet after giving his personal guards orders to see to the boy's safety.

It was hours later, just after two in the morning, when Kalel came to report on the Queen.

"She was not conspiring with her husband and the archbishop, although she did know of their campaign against the magically gifted, and especially Prince Merlyn," Kalel said.

"She knew."

"She did. She has nothing against magic in and of itself and she did admit to fearing that attention would turn to her sons. But she did nothing to stop them. When I pushed her, she said only that he was the king; if parliament could not stop him, how could she?"

"Foolish woman!" Kalahad growled. "There are enough lords who are loyal who would rally behind the queen to stop this from happening. Instead she left her people and her children in danger, her line in dishonor, and those loyal lords to fight without royal support."

"She is firmly against her sons being magically trained. It seems word carried to her ears that Merlyn was hoping to take on Kelson as a full student apprentice. And she also told me what I believe was the trigger that gave the traitors the push to attack. Merlyn is now acknowledged as High Priest in Avalon. He's gathered up some of his people and made a religious order of his own."

"Yes, the church would have seen that as direct defiance," Kalahad agreed.

"She does not want to 'lose her sons' to a religious life so she sat by and did nothing when Avalon was attacked."

Kalahad shook his head. How Kelson had turned out as well as he did was a mystery with these parents. "Meet me at her cell. I will be there soon."

He sat down at the desk he'd commandeered in the Admiralty and sent an encrypted message out to Commander Talon, who had charge of one of his sister, Morgaine's ships, _IKV Black Hand_ , whom he had chosen to oversee Kelson's training.

 _Commander Talon,_

 _I am sure the rumor has spread through the fleet. Let me confirm some truth for you. My brother King Gwydion committed genocide on the people of Avalon, a city on the south sea on Mantarra. He also committed dishonorable personal attacks on our younger brother, Merlyn. I have killed all those responsible for these crimes and have been named regent for now._

 _I have discovered that my nephews have not been properly raised and trained. I would consider it a great favor to House Pendragon if you would take my eldest nephew Kelson, into your tutelage. He is twenty years old and still not a man, though he at least fought well to free Merlyn, and obtained warrior status. This is not enough; Kelson is the new king yet I find him ill-trained to lead men much older than him._

 _Give him a good education in all that you can. Politics, strategy, negotiation, persuasion. He will need further training for magical abilities. I will send that teacher along as soon as Merlyn has recovered enough to consult with._

 _Do not coddle him but make it clear to the crew that he is not in rank succession. His path is not the navy. I would be most displeased to hear that the king has been assassinated for a rank that was never his to begin with, as will Morgaine._

 _Come to Mantarra with all speed to pick him up._

 _Fleet Admiral Kalahad epetai-Pendragon, Regent of Mantarra_

That finished he went down to the jail and pronounced judgement on Bet'lahr, for failing to stop the massacre at Avalon. He gave her a choice; to face Mantarran justice for accessory to genocide or to leave Mantarra completely, disavowed and exiled by the Pendragon line.

"You may return to your birth line, if they will have you," Kalahad growled.

Bet'lahr knew that the lords who had survived Kalahad's vengeance for the attack on Avalon would surely vote for her execution. If she were to die for this so be it, but it would be by her own dagger, not the hangman's noose nor the stake. Her family would not be happy to have lost all of their connections and the influence they had achieved by her marriage into the Pendragon line. It was likely her brother would disavow her as well.

"I will reclaim my honor and die by my own blade," she insisted.

"Very well."

"I wish to see my sons first."

"No. You are no longer a member of House Pendragon no matter what action you take. If you seek to reclaim your honor, you die under your birth house line, not mine."

Bet'lahr started to argue more but was stopped when Kalahad seized her upper arms spun her around so her back was to his chest.

"Do not think you can ask any favors of me. You deny your sons' heritage; Kelson is not a full man, not by Klingon standards and not by Mantarran standards. You've allowed no training for their magical abilities. Korvath hasn't even begun weapons training. You made your choice. Do it. Or I will see you are tried and executed by Mantarran law, hung as a traitor."

He shoved her away and tossed a dagger on the floor next to her. She stared at him spitefully. "Gwydion was right, you are a self-righteous ass. Your place is in the Empire. You have no rights here."

"That is where you are wrong, woman. I have been made regent by your son, the king of Mantarra, and given full authority to rule in his name. You have ten seconds to pick up the blade."

With no other option left, Bet'lahr picked up the blade and drove it into her belly, twisting it and pulling it back out, dropping it onto the floor as she began to bleed out. Both Kalahad and Kalel watched and waited until she was dead. "Send her body to her family line. I will not have her on this planet even in death."

"It will be done, my lord."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, just before 10 a.m., Kalahad ordered his Executive Officer to beam Kelson down from the ship, meeting him at the transporter pad of the hospital.

"Uncle," Kelson said as he stepped down from the pad.

"Did you sleep?" Kalahad asked.

"Well enough," Kelson answered with a shrug.

"Good. We have much to discuss. But I thought you would like to see Merlyn before we go meet with Korvath."

"Yes, most definitely," Kelson agreed.

"Come." Kalahad led the way into the hospital with two royal guards and two of Kalahad's own guards falling in behind them. Ellis was at the desk again this morning. He rose and bowed deeply to Kelson.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness," he said, acknowledging Kalahad as well. "You'll be wanting to see Prince Merlyn, no doubt."

"Yes, I do want to see him. Was he as badly hurt as he looked to be?" Kelson asked as Ellis came around the desk and led the way toward Merlyn's room.

"I'm afraid so, your majesty. It will take him a long time to fully recover," Ellis answered grimly. "Physically, perhaps six to eight weeks but psychologically… that could take quite a long time. Years."

Ellis let them into the secured room. Healer Anthony was dozing in a chair next to Merlyn's bed but came to his feet at the sound of the door opening, blinking away sleep and brandishing a weapon, which he immediately lowered as he recognized the party.

"Your majesty, good morning," he said, bowing to him and moving away from Merlyn's bedside. "Your Highness."

Kelson stepped up alongside Merlyn's bed with Kalahad taking the other side. Merlyn opened his eyes partway and gave them both a half smile.

"Uncle, I'm so sorry this happened," Kelson said, dismayed at the injuries he had sustained.

"I never thought Gwydion would go this far," Merlyn agreed. "But I know that you had no part in this, Kelson."

"Uncle Kalahad told you then."

"He didn't have to. I knew when I glimpsed you brandishing that sword in the corridor outside my cell. Your magic was crackling in the air, you were so furious at what you were seeing," Merlyn said softly. "I will recover. And then we will talk."

"Yes, after you've recovered, brother," Kalahad reinforced. "I have other plans for Kelson in the meantime, to prepare him to fully rule."

They stayed and talked with Merlyn for about 15 minutes until it was clear his energy was flagging, then told him to rest and left him under Anthony's watch. "We will go to see Korvath now," Kalahad said, pleased to see that Kelson was eager to see his brother.

Korvath rushed to embrace his older brother as soon as he saw him. He'd been so worried that Kelson had been badly injured or killed, despite the assurances of James and E'Katerina. In this case, seeing was believing.

"I'm alright," Kelson said as he hugged his brother tightly.

"And Merlyn?"

"He's very badly injured, but the healers say that he will recover in time."

"What about Mother?"

"Your mother is dead, Korvath. But she regained her honor in death," Kalahad told him solemnly.

Korvath was visibly upset and turned away so as not to show that to his brother and uncle. He didn't need to; Kalahad understood. He was a boy who'd lost his parents in that moment, not a prince who had survived royal treachery. After a moment, Korvath turned to face them again.

"So what happens now? When will you be coronated?" he asked Kelson.

"I don't know yet. I've made Uncle Kalahad the regent for now," Kelson answered, drawing a surprised look from James and E'Katerina. "In light of how widespread this treachery was, I thought it better for someone with more experience fighting and ruling to be in charge right now."

"I agree with my nephew," Kalahad said as he took a seat and accepted an ale from E'Katerina. "He has more that he should learn before he is coronated king. While he is learning, I will continue to root out the traitors to this world."

"So you'll be teaching him then," James surmised as he waved Kelson to a seat and then joined them.

"I will not. I am sending him off world to be taught."

"Off world? My prince, respectfully, that's just crazy," James protested. "In what way does it make sense to send the king off world to train to rule his kingdom?"

"He knows what he needs to know about this kingdom, Lord James," Kalahad said resolutely. "What he doesn't know about are the major political players beyond the system. He needs to learn about them, about the many cultures that trade on this planet, about intergalactic strategy, politics and diplomacy. He needs to be confident enough that 50 year old Lords with decades of experience will not question the orders of their 20 year old king because he conveys competence and confidence with his commands and shows wisdom in his dealings with off world factions. This is best learned first hand and that means off world. Were he my son, I would have sent him into the navy, either Mantarran or Klingon, the moment he turned 14. Since I am not satisfied that I have rooted out all of the traitorous factions that turned brother against brother here, the Mantarran Navy is out of question. He will go to Morgaine's fleet and learn there. Korvath, you and I will teach, along with E'Katerina, but the young prince will live here in Glastonbury for now."

James was still disquieted at the thought of Kelson leaving the planet but he could see the wisdom and logic in Kalahad's argument. After what they had just gone through, he would not challenge Kalahad on this issue, especially since Kelson himself had declared Kalahad regent and seemed at least interested in the idea of training off world.

"You're certain he will be safe in the Klingon Navy?" E'Katerina asked.

"Morgaine will make certain of it. I have given orders that it is to be made abundantly clear that he holds no permanent rank and is not on a command path. There will be nothing to gain by challenging him and everything to lose by striking down the king of Mantarra."

Kalahad remained in Glastonbury for several hours, giving the brothers time alone together while he planned for Korvath's education with James and E'Katerina. He had decided to take James' suggestion to send along a Mantarran guard with Kelson, for an added layer of protection. He had just the guard in mind. While at the hospital, one of the Camelot guards who had helped to overthrow Gywdion and the archbishop as soon as Kalahad's forces had arrived, had impressed him with the way he was able to handle the sharp tongued and quick tempered Healer Anthony. Rakzhol was a fierce fighter but surprisingly even tempered for a Klingon. He would do well for the task.

Kalahad hugged his young nephew when it was time for him to leave with James. Such shows of affection were frowned on in the Empire but he knew that Korvath needed it from him and freely gave it, along with the unspoken message that he would keep Korvath, and Kelson, safe.

Once back in the New London Admiralty, they were met by Captain Rakzhol, who came to attention at once, before giving both men a deep, respectful bow. Kalahad gestured for him to follow them into his office.

"Kelson, I have arranged placement for you on one of your Aunt Morgaine's ships. You'll serve as a member of the crew. I have made it clear that you are not in the chain of succession, to prevent any attempts to assassinate you for rank but that will not protect from non-lethal duels or training injuries. You'll have to leave Excalibur here, of course. We'll drive it into the stone in the Great Hall before you leave. Take your signet ring with you. Rakzhol, you will go with him and serve with the crew as well; however your primary task will be to see to it that he survives. Is this clear?"

"It is, Prince Kalahad," Rakzhol answered at once. "I have sworn my life on oath to this purpose already."

"Kalel," he said over the comm-link. The man stepped into the room. "Get these two fitted with Klingon Naval uniforms."

Soon enough, Kelson stood staring at himself in the mirror, trying to reconcile the image he was seeing. The uniform was so different from the clothes he normally wore, it felt stiff and uncomfortable. He certainly didn't look Mantarran anymore. He was very glad that Rakzhol was going with him since he was very nervous at the idea of being off world and just a crew member for… well, he didn't know how long it would be. Until Kalahad was satisfied, he guessed.

* * *

Commander Talon stepped onto the bridge of his vor'cha class heavy cruiser, _The Black Hand_ , and headed to the empty command chair. His command second was recently deceased and he deliberately had not named another. Talon's tall, blond form was unmistakable anywhere on the ship, however, even in the dimmest lighting.

"Commander!" his chief of security declared, with a salute. Talon waved off the acknowledgements and sat down heavily with a creaking of leathers. "Helm, prepare to cast off," he ordered. He flipped open the input screen built into the armrest of his chair and began to enter coordinates. "Sending coordinates."

"Yes, Commander," the large Klingon who was also very talented at the helm answered. His name was Kavish. No house. And, without having been recognized for his talents by Talon, he would have faced a very dim future indeed. So many of his crew were like that. In Morgaine's fleet, however, the rules were different. It was a gamble, but one they were willing to take. If the old, staid Empire would not receive them, was it not time them to prove to it how wrong those ways were?

The young woman who moved silently behind him, to his right, surveyed the bridge but made no comment.

Talon smirked. She was curious but held her tongue. Good. Maybe she was learning.

Finally.

He let her stew, knowing it was a test. Just because she was his daughter did not always mean she had privilege over the others.

And just because she'd recently killed his second in command in an honor duel the day before did not -necessarily- mean Talon had to give her the spot.

It had to be eating her up inside.

K'talia stared ahead, barely keeping her temper in check. The stitches in her side and thigh were still causing her some discomfort, to tell the truth. She reminded herself that Talon had his reasons for every little thing he did or said. It was how he played the game.

And he was proud of her. He'd told her so last night, as she lay in her bunk and wondered if the pain would ever let her sleep. At that moment, her entire life felt worth it. For once. It gave her the depth to find restraint today. A new and wholly different feeling than she'd ever felt before. Maybe she was finally growing up; her biology was uniquely her own, after all. She lagged so far behind her pureblood Klingon shipmates in that regard. At 18 years of age, she -should- have already achieved greater success, or failure, by now.

Talon was uniquely qualified to understand this; and gave her the window of time to mature so she could truly stand on her own. She got it now. So many years of angrily opposing him, hoping to cause him the hurt that she, honestly, still harbored deep inside herself.

She kept her silent vigil.

In the command chair, Talon smiled to himself, and then stood. "We are heading to Mantarra, Lieutenant Commander," he addressed K'talia; announcing her promotion. "It is a polite visit. You have the conn. Alert me when we are in orbit."

She saluted smartly. "Yes, my lord!"

The Black Hand dropped out of warp as it entered the Mantarran system. Five worlds circling a yellow star, the third of which the only one that was habitable. Almost immediately, the communications officer reported, "We are being hailed, Lieutenant. By the IKV Devastator," he added, a bit startled to see Kalahad's flagship in a sentry position for the entire system.

"On screen," she replied cooly.

The bridge of the Devastator saw a confident woman with long, dark hair and surprisingly green eyes staring with just enough challenge, just enough deference. "Devastator, this is The Black Hand, en route to Mantarra. We are expected."

Kalahad's second in command, looked at her with a toothy smile. "This is a surprise. Though perhaps not under Fleet Captain Morgaine's command. I am Commander Kaleb epetai-Kehar, Executive Officer. When you have been granted parking orbit by the Mantarran Navy, Commander Talon is ordered to beam down to the Admiralty in New London. Fleet Commander Kalahad awaits him there with orders to be delivered in person. Be certain not to provoke the Mantarrans; the situation is volatile and Kalahad will deliver harsh retribution to anyone who stirs it up further. I trust that is clear enough?" Kaleb asked with a smirk. "Don't keep Kalahad waiting," he added, then closed the transmission.

K'talia waited until the link was closed. She rolled her eyes. "I guess that means I won't be lighting firecrackers off under anyone's ass while we're here," she said flatly. "Of course we understand!" she growled.

She punched the com button on the command chair. "Commander. We are here. You've been ordered to beam down to meet with the Admiralty in New London, my lord. There is a warning not to antagonize the Mantarrans. Fleet Admiral Kalahad is in a mood."

"Acknowledged, Lieutenant. I trust you will not begin any unnecessary blood feuds in my absence. You have the con."

"My lord," she replied, and cut the connection. Standing, she then slinked over behind the helmsman. "Move us in, graceful and efficient."

"As always," Kavish grumbled his reply. It sounded like a small mountain shifting position. She was rather certain the helm chair was custom made, just to hold this man.

She nodded her approval, and watched; eyes narrowing as the planet came into view. The little noise in the back of her head grew louder, until she had to grind her teeth and forcibly block it. Still, it was there, like a vibration from music too far away to hear.

It was giving her an instant headache.

"Everyone, stay sharp. Scanners, I want data on New London to the chair. If any of the local vessels so much as wiggle unexpectedly, I want to know."

She stalked back to the chair and took it again. It was torture. She'd much rather be going planetside, to face whatever it was which caused the back of her head to ache. Still, this was her first command, and she would be damned if she would let anything short of a personal tac-nuke leveled at her personally mar it in any way.

When they'd triple verified the coordinates, Talon was beamed down. Her facial expression did not change, but she wished the naked stars to go before him to clear his path. Too many nervous Klingons in one place rarely meant safety and security.

And she'd be ready.

One minute had passed.

It was going to be hell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Please take a moment and let us know what you think about this story. We have almost finished writing it and trying to determine if there is interest in it. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

Talon materialized to find Admiral Kincaid of the Royal Mantarran Navy waiting for him.

"Commander Talon. I'm Admiral Jonus Kincaid. Welcome to Mantarra. Follow me; I'll take you to Fleet Admiral Kalahad. He's commandeered my office for the duration," Kincaid said, crisply leading Talon out and down the corridors. There were guards posted at major intersections and key entry points, Talon thought it was likely more heavily guarded than normal right now. They got to the office door and Kincaid chimed for entry.

"Enter!" Kalahad's voice rang out in klingonaase. They stepped into the office and Talon came to attention and saluted.

"Commander Talon. Your prompt arrival is greatly appreciated. You've met Admiral Kincaid. This is Doctor Jackson Ellis, Chief Medical Officer of the Mantarran Navy and Royal Chief of Medicine."

Kalahad gestured to a young klingon in uniform standing on the side of the office. "This is Kelson epetai-Pendragon, King of Mantarra."

"Commander Talon," Kelson said, nodding respectfully to him.

"Sit, Talon," Kalahad invited, leaving the young king and another man, clearly a guard, the only ones in the room still standing. "As I have told you, I have had to exert my authority as head of the House of Pendragon to kill my twin brother, King Gwydion, Kelson's father, for the crime of genocide against the people of Mantarra and for the torture of our brother, Merlyn. The people that Gwydion was trying to eliminate are those with psi gifts," he added, knowing that he could trust Talon with that information. "I have killed Gwydion and his conspirators along with many of those who believed the lies that he spouted about them. My brother, Merlyn lies in hospital, severely wounded. Kelson has named me Regent for the kingdom, to rule here in his stead, with his authority until such time as he is fully trained and coronated king. You will take Kelson, and his guard, Rakzhol, aboard your ship and place them among your crew."

"He knows only of the working of this kingdom, Talon, nothing beyond it. He needs to understand how the Empire works, which houses are allied with whom, and Klingon culture in general. Do not think that he knows these things, even being mostly klingon in blood. He has not been properly taught things that a child of ten on Klinzhai would know. He also needs to know battle and political strategies, how the Federation and other major players operate. I am asking much of you, Talon, this I know. But it is vital to the security and stability of this sector.

"He will be granted the rank of Ensign. Rakzhol will be granted the rank of sergeant. Neither will be in rank succession and this should be made clear to your crew from the outset. They will gain nothing but my wrath should he be assassinated in an attempt to gain rank or stature. In fact, as Regent of Mantarra, I would consider an assassination an act of war, against House Pendragon and against Mantarra itself. Let them all be clearly warned.

"This does not apply to training injuries, non-lethal duels, or accidents in the course of his service, though I urge you to do your best to see that he lives. That is also what I have ordered Rakzhol to do. Ask any questions you have of me."

Talon looked over to consider Kelson for a long moment. Then he looked at Rakzhol, gave a slight nod, and returned his gaze to Kalahad. "What of his navy experience? Was he not required to spend two years aboard one of Mantarra's ships?"

"No, he was not. My brother chose to exempt his heir from service. That should have been a clear sign to Parliament of his unfitness to lead but it was not," Kalahad answered with clear disgust.

"He was given tours of the three flagships, shown how consoles and comms and library computers worked here in the Admiralty and the New London Hospital but little more. In many ways, he is more raw than a newly minted cadet at the Academy. Rakzhol, did you serve in the navy?"

"Four years, My Prince," Rakzhol answered, "then joined the Royal Guard at Camelot."

Kelson frowned as he listened to them talking about him and began to realize just how little he had been taught. At first, he'd just thought Kalahad was being cautious, that this training would take little more than a month or two and he would be coronated. Now he wasn't sure how long he would be gone. Would they make him serve two years in the Klingon Navy? Should he refuse to go? Excalibur seemed to accept him; if he withdrew it from the stone again, no one, not even Kalahad, could unseat him unless he committed a crime as heinous as his father did.

But on the other hand, how many of the things Kalahad had mentioned would be useful to him as king? He was dismayed when he realized that he didn't even have enough information to answer that question and could feel himself becoming very angry at his parents for limiting him so severely. And moreso at himself for never thinking to question beyond the limits they had set in place. His magic was reacting to his anger and crackled in the air around him, causing Talon to snap his gaze back at him.

"Take a breath, nephew," Kalahad ordered sharply, startling him out of the power building up.

"Any other questions, Talon? Does your ship need any supplies?"

"Fresh meats and fruits are always good for morale, my lord," Talon answered easily. "If the markets have some to spare. I understand times have been uneasy, and the harvests may have been spoiled."

He looked back over to Kelson who was still getting his act together. It was a long look. He glanced back to Kalahad. "He's had a slow start, but that means nothing when it comes to predicting his future. It may prove quite useful, as he has more frontal lobe cells to counter his temper," he joked, pointing to his own forehead. He looked back at Kelson again, even as he was speaking to Kalahad. "I believe blood will out, in the end. Honor and victory will follow. But I have one more question."

He waited for Kalahad's approval, then turned to Kelson. "Why do YOU want this, your Highness? Or...do you?"

Kelson was startled to be asked for his opinion on his assignment to Talon's ship. Thus far his opinion had mattered little to Kalahad's plans for him and for Korvath as well.

"What I want is to be the best ruler of my people that I am able to be. I think the king's place should be here on his planet but… I cannot even answer the question in my mind whether the lessons my uncle would have me learn under your command would make me a better king or just more modern minded. That tells me there is at least something to be gained by going. I have declared him Regent and I trust him. Merlyn trusts him; that tells me much of his character. Uncle Kalahad trusts you. I guess I'm going to have to trust you as well. But do I wish to leave my home and homeworld? On the most basic level… no, I don't. Mantarrans and Klingons are not the same culture, despite looking similar when I put on this uniform. What about you, Commander? Do you wish to be saddled with an ill-educated, royal youth?"

Talon held up his hand. "Stop. First - you do not -have- to trust me. You will use your instincts and decide whether or not your uncle's faith in me is founded in truth, or not. And you will take action upon that decision. THAT is the Klingon way, and it matters not whence the origin of the blood. I would call you a fool to your face if you trusted me blindly, Kelson.

"Trust my instincts, huh? You're the first person to suggest that my instincts might be worth trusting," Kelson answered, intrigued by Talon's blunt honesty. "All of a sudden you remind me of Master Healer Anthony. That raises you a step in my opinion, just so you know."

Ellis and Kincaid both chuckled, even under Kalahad's glare.

Kelson stood still and met Talon's eyes for a long moment and Talon could feel him questing with his gifts, not intruding at all but clearly seeking to make a decision. Finally, Kelson nodded. "I think I can agree with my uncle's judgement about you, Commander. You strike me as one who will keep his word given and oaths sworn."

"That is exactly true, Ensign," Talon agreed. "And also know this: You'll hate me, at times. Hate that you made this decision. Regret that you didn't take the easier path."

He paused meeting Kelson's gaze with his own. "In those moments, remember these words: nothing ever worth learning has been won easily. At the moments when you are filled with the most anger and regret about your training, those are signs that you are -changing- inside. And there is much change that needs to happen if you are to meet your goal to be the best ruler you can be for these people." He motioned out into the world at large.

"At the end of this, you will not need to rely on your uncle's judgements about who to trust and what to do. You will -know-. That does not mean you still won't need to seek advice on various matters, but there won't be this constant un-knowing. That is because you do not know -yourself-. Your limits. The mastering of your own fears. The achievement of your own triumph. They have been denied you. And now you will wrest them back from fate and make them your own, or die trying. Kai Klingon!"

It was telling to Talon that of those assembled in the room, the healer Ellis and the young king were the only ones who did not echo him. Even the human admiral, Kincaid had done so with gusto. But Kelson did look resolutely determined to have what Talon had just described; the confidence to know himself and his own mind and fate.

Kalahad nodded, well pleased with the way that Talon was interacting with Kelson already. The boy would be challenged daily but seemed to have the klin spirit to rise to meet the challenge with ferocity.

"Very well. Admiral Kincaid, see to the transfer or meats and fresh fruits to _The Black Hand_. Normally, I would grant your crew leave but given the circumstances, it's best you were away as quickly as possible. I will send someone to Morgaine with a report of what has been decided here today."

"Kelson," he said, standing and coming over to him, "keep your mind and your eyes open. You have the potential to be a great leader; go out and get the knowledge you need to do so. And don't overlook the possibility of gaining allies. I will see to Korvath and Merlyn's safety and make sure your kingdom is well-prepared to hand back to you when you return."

Kalahad pulled out a faceted piece of trilithium by the leather cord it was strung on and held it out to Kelson. "Lord James gave me this to send with you, so you will always be connected to Mantarra no matter how far away you travel nor how long you are gone." He waited until Kelson put it on and tucked the crystal under the tunic of his uniform against his skin. "Survive and succeed, Kelson epetai-Pendragon."

"Survive and succeed, Kalahad epetai-Pendragon," Kelson answered then was pulled into a bear hug by his taller uncle.

"Now go. Rakzhol, on your honor," Kalahad said, taking his arm in a warrior's clasp.

"I swear, that I will give true and faithful service and that so long as I live and breathe, no harm will come to him," Rakzhol said, repeating an abridged version of the oath of fealty in front of them all as witnesses.

Kincaid and Ellis both wished Kelson success and urged him to come back to them soon before leaving to return to their duties; Kincaid to arrange for supplies to _The Black Hand_ and Ellis to caring for Prince Merlyn. Rakzhol escorted both Kelson and Talon back to the transporter platform to be beamed back up to the ship.

The transporter deposited the trio neatly aboard the The Black Hand. The room was empty aside from the gangly but very dangerous looking Klingon who worked the controls.

Talon stepped down from the dais as the klingon saluted with his head slightly bowed. "Commander," he greeted simply.

"Lieutenant," Talon countered. "Please make security clearances for Kelson epetai-Pendragon and Rakzhol vai-Pendragon," he ordered smoothly. The scarred Ltn glanced at the newcomers. "Both of you, this is K'ogen nar'eth vai-Dumas, chief of security and the only man I've ever seen kill a klingon at 30 paces with a butterknife."

"An incredibly lucky shot," the man said with uncharacteristic humility.

"My ass," Talon responded, with a chuckle. "At any rate, understand that Rakzhol is honor bound for this younger man's well-being, as I'm sure you understand. Arrangements should be made accordingly."

"Yes, my lord," the security chief responded. He looked to both of them. "Welcome to _The Black Hand_ ," he greeted. His look was not warm but also not cold. Perhaps he was wagering on Kelson's chances of survival.

"There is more, K'ogen. Assemble the command team as soon as they are settled." Talon reached a vid-com station in two long strides and activated the screen. A young woman was pictured, sitting in the command chair. Her chin lifted slightly, as she awaited orders. "We are secure, K'talia. Take us out of system as soon as the goods we are expecting are beamed aboard, then meet us in Planning."

Her eyes widened slightly, obviously wanting to ask dozens of questions, but instead she stood and saluted the screen smartly. "As you command, my lord," she replied.

"And K'talia? We're still being polite. No incidents."

He broke the connection.

Kelson managed to nod in acknowledgement of Lieutenant K'ogen's welcome, such as it was. He glanced around the transporter room a bit shocked at how much darker and utilitarian these vessels were than Mantarran Naval vessels, which were styled closer to Starfleet's aesthetic. He was starting to worry about how the crew was going to react to him and to Rakzhol's presence with him. He had initially thought that his uncle was being overly dramatic with his warnings against attempts on his life. Now he was very unsure about that.

He was startled to see the woman, K'talia, who answered Talon's call. Why did Talon warn her to remain polite, to cause no incidents? The Klingons and the Mantarrans were allies. Why would they want to provoke any incidents? He was about to simply ask when Rakzhol nudged the back of Kelson's heel with the toe of his boot. When Kelson glanced back at him, Rakzhol gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Ah yes. An ensign would not have permission to openly ask questions that a prince or a king would.

Things moved quickly after that. K'ogen entered their bioscan into the security central station and then handed them off to one of his ensigns to take to their assigned quarters. The ensign led them down to the lift without a word and then crew deck sigma, to a cramped, poorly-lit chamber with four bunks, a small table and a privy. Only one of the bunks looked in service, the others were bare.

"Servants are not allowed for anyone under the rank of lieutenant," the ensign explained. "Supplies are in the cupboard. Your comms will be delivered shortly."

With that, the door closed.

The moment the door closed, Rakzhol went to work investigating the room, particularly the set of bunks that he and Kelson would use. He opened the cupboard, felt under the edges of the bunks, table and chairs, even checked around the privy.

Kelson slowly spun in place, taking in the room they'd been assigned and the fact that there would be another roommate with potential for a fourth to join them.

"I knew we wouldn't be in the Royal suite but this… this is little better than a hunting camp," he said as he watched Rakzhol finish his inventory of the room.

"You would do well to remember that it is highly possible for private quarters to be both listened in on and watched by security, in addition to public areas. Take the bottom bunk of this pair; I'll take the top."

Kelson sighed and sat down on one of the chairs. "I think I'm beginning to regret my decision already."

"The day is young, my liege. I'm sure there will be plenty of reasons to regret coming by nightfall. After all, we haven't met our roommate, you haven't been assigned to any duty, met your superior officers…"

"Alright, that's enough, Rakzhol. I get the point. What's in this famous supply cupboard anyway?"

"Bed linens, towels, toilet paper, soap… basic hygiene supplies, nothing more."

"We should have packed some things in from home."

"Perhaps. The bags would have been thoroughly searched by security first. Likely, they would have kept anything of interest or value, such as luxury items."

"That's theft," Kelson said, outraged at the idea.

"Rank hath its privileges. You could of course report them to Talon, though that would make you an instant pariah in the crew as one who couldn't solve his own problems. You could challenge them to get them back, but if you lose they are from that day forward their property without any legal recourse to get them back. Plus, you could wind up taking a hell of a beating in the process."

"How did you serve four years like this?"

"The Mantarran Navy is closer to Starfleet than the Klingon navy, my liege. You're going to be given a very difficult time of it at first. Keep your temper, reserve any question of honor duels for the most serious of offenses, and learn to do your assignments well. Eventually, you'll gain their respect for your own abilities and the worst of the hazing will fade off. At least you were granted the junior most officer rank. It could have been worse had you gone in as enlisted crew," Rakzhol added with a shrug and then laughed at the open dismay on Kelson's face.

"Here," Rakzhol said, pulling two sets of bed linens out of the cupboard and tossing one to Kelson. "Get your bunk made up while we wait for the comm badges and further orders."

It took twenty minutes for Kelson to manage to make the bunk, much to Rakzhol's amusement. The Crown Prince had never made his own bed in his life, not even in a hunting camp, and Rakzhol had to give him instruction on how to do it, to get the sheets properly tight and tucked in, so as to closely match the made bunk of their roommate. It wouldn't do for them to know just how few basic duties and life skills Kelson didn't know how to do.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't two minutes past the final approval of Kelson's bunk when the door chime buzzed. At Rakzhol's "come", the door opened and K'talia strode into the small room. Her thigh-high boots were designed to also function as sheaths for her many knives, and the short skirts that flowed over her hips were of a specialized metal-leather weave as well. The cuirass was formed to her torso and most likely held even more weapons. Her hair was long and almost unruly, but not quite, and her eyes were as green as he first saw in the video feed.

"I have your security comms," she announced, with no preamble. She tossed them in rapid succession, first to Kelson, who was closer, then to Rakzhol. Without pausing to see if they caught them, she spun on heel. "Come. The Commander wants you in Planning."

Kelson caught the comm but juggled it hand to hand for a few seconds before he got a firm grip on it. Rakzhol was already urging him out the door to follow K'talia to the planning room. Kelson kept glancing back at Rakzhol trying to figure out how to get the badge on, finally achieving it just as they approached the doorway, looking a bit frazzled and frustrated.

The doors opened and several pair of eyes turned in their direction. The command crew stood in a rough circle around a holo-display in the center of the room. At present, the display showed the Mantarran system.

K'talia brought them forward and presented them to her commander, whom she saluted first, then stepped aside.

There were studs with tiny, metal claws on the back of her gloves, he might note.

Commander Talon nodded a welcome. "I trust you are settled, yes?" he asked. After their nods, he turned to the remainder of the klingons gathered in the room.

"Everyone. This is Kelson eptai-Pendragon, rightful king of Mantarra and nephew to our most glorious Emperor. He is joining a Klingon crew for his service requirement so that the ties between our two peoples will remain ever strong."

Talon paused and looked around the room. "He has learned, already, more about history and languages and arts and sciences and lore than any of us sorry louts here will ever hope to know. It is now his plan to continue his education. He knows of fighting. We will expand it. He will learn of engineering. Navigation. Shields. Armaments. We will teach him. He will also pull his own weight, as we would expect of any incoming Ensign in our midst."

Talon slammed his hands on the edge of the holotable! "He is not here to steal this ship's command or wiggle his way up to our Fleet Admiral's graces. He already OWNS starships. I want this known. Any attack against him personally is an attack against me, and against all of our honor combined. I will hunt any son-of-a-Ferengi-bitch down in the Black fleet to the end of all days who thinks an assassination attempt might be a fun thing to try. Make this known. I hold you responsible for the actions of your teams on this. Your blood will repay our dishonor."

He backed away a step.

His command team nodded, saluted, or bowed formally. Each one of them understood. Kelson could see security chief K'ogen across the room. Beside him was a red-headed Klingon female who looked just as dangerous, yet her uniform had the small additional marking of the medical team. A smaller Klingon with an artificial eye and several tools on his belt just had to be the chief of Engineering. Another darkly skinned Klingon with dozens of close-braids in his hair was probably science.

Kelson stood tall and met each officer's eyes one by one as they were introduced. Rakzhol remained standing by the doorway, in the at ease position, but clearly watching the assembled officers as well as the young king.

"Who is the other one?" Mardok, the Chief Engineer, asked, gesturing to Rakzhol.

"Rakzhol, Captain of the Guard at Camelot on Mantarra," Talon responded. "He is here as an additional protection at Fleet Admiral Kalahad's orders. He has served in the Mantarran Navy and will also serve alongside Ensign Kelson."

"So he is a glorified babysitter?" Keribeth, the medical officer laughed. "Oh, pardon me, a king-sitter."

Kelson narrowed his eyes at the joking insult but otherwise did not respond. Other nobles had complained of being babysitters when having him along as a young boy; this he counted as the same type of complaint.

Rakzhol stepped forward and stood just in front of Kelson. "My king has my sworn allegiance to do good and faithful service, to follow his orders and laws, to act as counsellor and protector. And while I live and breathe, I have sworn that no harm will come to him," he finished with a glare and low growl. "I am honored to serve my king this way."

Kelson waited a moment or two after Rakzhol made his declaration then laid a hand on his shoulder. Rakzhol bowed his head and immediately stepped back, resuming his former position along the outer wall.

"Kai Mantarra!" the chief of security said, with a nod toward Rakzhol. "Although 'no harm' should probably be quantified, sergeant. His highness will not learn without some bruises, certainly. You are a man of action, you know this."

"Training bruises, lacerations and the like are not counted under the category of causing harm," Rakzhol answered with a return nod to K'ogen. "Harm carries with it an intent to cause either death or debilitating injury. Any who wish to do that will have to step over my dead body first."

"And what if he should be in battle?" the chief engineer said, asking the question everyone in the room wanted to know.

"If he should be in battle, I will fight at his side. Should death find us, I will die before him. It is my oath given to do so. It is his oath given to allow it," Rakzhol declared, with Kelson nodding solemnly in agreement.

"So you will fight with the crew in battle, King of Mantarra?" Keribeth asked sharply. "Or will you preserve your own life to return to your castles and your servants?"

"I am young. I am not a coward who hides behind his walls and guards," Kelson answered sharply. "I fought at Kalahad's side to free Prince Merlyn. I will fight at your side, should you prove worthy of it."

K'talia raised an eyebrow, and then laughed at Keribeth's expression. She wasn't the only one to chuckle and nod or simply grunt with approval at the young King's spirit.

"If I -prove- worthy?" Keribeth repeated. "Listen closely, youngling. No one serving on this ship has failed to prove himself, or herself worthy. Except, perhaps, one. For him, the jury remains unconvinced. Actions speak louder than your hot words. I look forward to seeing if you are capable of them."

"Indeed, actions do speak louder than hot words. Which makes me wonder why you openly resort to hot words yourself, choosing to deliberately misunderstand Mantarran laws and customs and underestimate me based solely on my youth. I may not have the same experience in battle as you do, but you do not have the same experience that I do either. You wish to see if you could provoke me to some response? Congratulations. Consider me provoked."

"You do not know my motivations. Making assumptions about them WILL get you killed, Kelson eptai-Pendragon. That is not a threat, that is just plain advice. YOU are the one with much to prove. You try to turn the tables because you have never faced it in this direction before… and you are scared. Feelings like that are not shameful. Foisting off on others the task you should be setting for yourself - is." She stared at him, across the room. Her hand had not moved to her honor knives, but it was only a matter of time, now.

" _Just let it drop, for gods' sake!"_ he heard in his mind. It was a female voice.

Talon shifted his weight.

Kelson was taken aback by the doctor's assertion that he was scared and trying to turn the tables on her, that she looked to be trying to draw him into something here and now. "I am scared. I openly admit it. I am not afraid of you," he growled, his magic starting to make the little hairs on everyone's arms and necks stand on end. But hearing the other voice in his head, he glanced at K'talia and caught Talon's shifting position out of the corner of his eye, even as Rakzhol moved up close behind Kelson, should the doctor decide to actually draw steel on him.

Kelson took a deep breath and settled the magic back down. "Time will tell, Doctor. But this is not the time for such proofs to be determined," he said. "Besides, in the end, I am still the King of Mantarra."

"Do yourself a favor, Ensign," Keribeth countered, but without heat. "Forget those last words. At least, for a while. They will be a crutch here, nothing more. And aside from earning our Commander's ire, I guarantee you most Klingons on this ship do not give a fuck about your high and noble birth. Afterall, what did you do to EARN that?" Her eyes narrowed at him. "Nothing." She leaned closer, somewhat into the holo. "If you ever want to know what I did to earn this- " she tapped her rank insignia, "All you have to do is read it. Our records are in the database."

Kelson clenched his jaw and nodded crisply. Only a select few knew that being born and named Crown Prince did not guarantee that Excalibur would accept him as the new king. He would not bring that point up here. "I'll be sure to do so. You are as sharp tongued as Master Healer Anthony. Perhaps it is an acquired trait for doctors?" he said, glancing back at Rakzhol, who chuckled and stepped back again.

"Given the temperament of Master Healer Ellis, I think perhaps you are right."

Talon chuckled. "Ah, the real reason our Empire banned them for years!" he joked. "Now the truth is finally out."

There were chuckles, and even Keribeth smirked good-naturedly.

Talon continued, "I'll send you the training schedule soon, Kelson. For the rest of the day, get to know the layout of the ship and the basic working functions. Evac and fire procedures as well."

He looked to the rest of them. "Dismissed!"

The officers began to talk among themselves as they filed out. This was obviously a senior staff that was used to working with each other. That in and of itself said ...something.

K'talia was frowning intently. Her voice was reasonably even, however, as she stepped forward, when the others had left. "I'm to give you the tour, Ensign. Sergeant. Where would you like to begin?"

Kelson nodded and thought through his options. Where had the tours started on the Mantarran vessels? Ah! "Let's start in engineering, Lieutenant."

She nodded, recognizing it as a good choice. She turned to the holoprojector and brought up the map of the ship. "In case you've never seen vor'cha class ship before, here is the basic structure," she began. As the view rotated, she highlighted the differing sections, from engineering, to sensor relays to life support, med bay, turbo lift control. Maintenance passages. Crew decks. The shuttle bays and transporter controls. Secondary power systems. Hull breach doors. Emergency weapons lockers. Emergency hardsuit lockers..."

She looked over at the pair and realized she had been rambling. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. Let's go."

She led them out, stepping over the threshold and heading down the corridor beyond.

The combination of the boots and the flow of the skirts along her thighs, of course, were not officially ON the tour.

As they followed K'talia through the corridors, Kelson wondered how it was that she had First Officer rank when she seemed to be his age. The rest of the officers seemed amused to think he should be a king at the age of 20 with 'no experience in fighting', as though that were the only thing that made someone a worthy king, and yet their own first officer was equally as young. Though he supposed probably more tried in battle. Still, would the older and much more experienced men take her orders? Would they balk at the idea the way the doctor had probed at him? Perhaps. Lady E'Katerina had told him that klingons often move up in rank by assassinating their superior officers and all of Kalahad's warnings confirmed this was so. How did they maintain any sort of command hierarchy under that kind of system?

"How long have you served on this ship?" Kelson asked, hoping that was an acceptable question. He really didn't want to get into yet another verbal sparring match in the space of an hour.

"Four years," she replied, obviously not bothered by his question. She looked over at him. "How long is your assignment here?"

"Undetermined. Until Uncle decides I've learned enough or some crisis forces my return. Although it is common for Mantarrans to serve two years in the navy, particularly noble born. Perhaps he has in mind to keep me here that long. I hope you'll forgive me if I say that I hope he won't do that."

"There is nothing to forgive, unless you mean insult...which I do not think you do. But I don't understand it. I can't imagine being planet-bound. Locked in. Shut in..." she shivered at the thought. "The stars are infinite! There is so much to see, and discover!" she shook her head at his reticence.

Without warning, she stopped dead, turned in a whirl of hair, and poked his chest. "And if you DO mean to insult this ship, you'd best tell me now, to my face, and we'll get this lesson over with first thing."

Kelson had to take a half step backward to avoid walking right into her, she stopped so suddenly. "I mean no insult to this ship, I assure you. Only that I cannot imagine being away from Mantarra for two full years." He rubbed his chest muscle where she'd poked him.

"I can understand how open space must seem to you, but I've never felt locked in or shut in on Mantarra. Beyond the castle walls lie plenty of meadows and forests to ride and hunt in. Rivers to boat down and the great seas to the west and south of our lands. Or if you prefer the peaks of the mountains in the north. Unlike Klinzhai, the stars are almost always visible on Mantarra."

"Besides, my uncle is severely injured and my younger brother left parentless after the crimes my father committed," he continued. "I would like to see them sooner rather than later."

"You can always write to them," she proposed. "It's not the same, I know, but it helps. I wrote to a friend of mine I had to leave behind when I left for the academy. And Mantarra sounds like a great place for a hunt. I grew up on Nivni6. There is a grand hunt every year to test the academy graduates."

"Really? What sort of beasts are hunted there? Do you use modern weaponry or do you prefer the challenge of older weapons? Mounted or on foot? I've been on a few big game hunts, bear mostly, some deer hunts as well. We used longbows and for the bear, short swords to finish the kill," Kelson explained, his enthusiasm for hunting clearly showing in his expression.

"The rules of the graduation hunt were simple. You could only use what you found. Or built. Or ..." she added darkly, "Took from another hunter. That was the most dangerous part."

She sighed, and looked away. "Some years are messier than others," she murmured. "My friend did not make it."

"That makes it quite a bit more dangerous. My condolences for your friend, if that is acceptable to say. I knew Klingons and Mantarrans had grown apart culturally but I'm finding the gap is larger than I thought it was. It does seem odd to me to spend the time and expense training up cadets only to lose them in the graduation hunt."

"If they cannot survive the hunt, how will they survive in the navy?" Rakzhol said from behind them. "The graduation hunt is not a ceremony; it is the final exam."

"Oh, it wasn't from the academy," she corrected. "That was from primary school."

"Primary school?" Kelson asked, shocked at the thought of Korvath being asked to do this type of hunt. "Sometimes I'm amazed that there are any Klingons left with all the ways they've devised to get killed before they even reach adulthood."

She snorted. "Yeah, I thought of that too. The colonies are the worst, though. I think they feel they have to be 'more klingon than thou' - I think that is adopted from a human expression."

She looked at him and realized quite suddenly that they were having a civil conversation.

It obviously surprised her.

"We'd best finish the tour," she said suddenly, and turned to do just that.

Kelson was surprised by the sudden shift; he'd been enjoying the conversation and thought she had too. Why did she run away from it? Then they were in engineering. Surrounded by other Klingons and trying to absorb even a small portion of what she was showing him, he didn't think trying to restart their conversation would be good.

By the end of the tour, he was on information overload; even utilizing the memorization techniques that Brother Avarard had taught him. The last stop was the mess hall as it was now time for the evening meal. The hot kaf smelled wonderful and promised to perk up his exhausted brain cells. Rakzhol murmured from behind him to remember that he was the junior most officer. All of the other officers present had right to the kaf and the food before him but to be certain to claim his place before the incoming enlisted men got theirs.

"I will join you once I've gotten my meal with the appropriate ranks. Go on now," Rakzhol gave him a light nudge toward the meal line.

Kelson scanned the rank insignia carefully and picked out the ensign currently at the end of the line. He walked over and moved in between the ensign and the woman behind him with an air of more confidence than he was feeling at the moment. He caught sight of Rakzhol joining the line farther behind them.

The enlisted klingon marine growled at Kelson and refused to budge at first but when Kelson stood his ground, the woman yielded her place in line to him. So, another test, Kelson thought. This whole experience was likely to be an endless string of them. He found himself longing for his school teacher's tests. At least they hadn't carried the threat of an honor duel for failing them.


	5. Chapter 5

The first week of duty was finally at an end and Kelson was completely exhausted, bruised all over and bearing a new set of stitches from a knife wound during training. Even his brain was exhausted from trying to absorb everything he needed to know to work the station he'd been assigned in engineering. Not to mention that the increased gravity and heavier air pressure on the vessel was wearing him down as well. He'd been assured by Security Chief K'ogen that the physical workouts he was being put through would strengthen his muscles and reduce the effects in time. He threw himself down onto his bunk with a sigh.

Rakzhol had followed him in, stripping out of his uniform in preparation of taking a shower. Kelson lazily watched him, the guard's muscles and whitened old scars shifting under his skin. Even Rakzhol had new bruises from this week's training sessions. He carried several blades on him, which took a minute to take them all off. This shower was the only time that Rakzhol disarmed completely, and it fell to Kelson to be alert during this time, both to keep both of them secure and to keep all of Rakzhol's weapons secured too.

With only a small knock of warning, the door to the bunk room opened and Talon walked in. He nodded hello, eyeing Kelson's position which blocked the path to the weapons. The commander was wearing his 'blacks'; snug black leathers that were custom fitted and moved with him like a glove. "As you were, Ensign. Your highness. I thought we could talk for a few moments."

"Commander Talon," Kelson greeted him respectfully but did not move away from the blades. "Certainly, what would you like to talk about?" Truthfully, Kelson was a bit uneasy speaking to Talon with Rakzhol occupied in the shower at the moment.

Talon leaned against the wall easily. "How was your first week? Anyone give you any problems I need to know about?" he asked.

"My brain hurts from learning about transwarp equations," Kelson answered with a smile. "I haven't had any problems that you need to know about. Just what I gather to be standard hazing."

Talon nodded. It had been what he'd noted as well, but it was good to get it verified. "And about that hazing...anyone you think you'll have to kill? I won't forbid it if it is necessary." He paused, "Although if my daughter is on that list, I'll have to ask you to reconsider," he added with a smirk.

"No, there's no one I think I'll have to kill yet. Several that I want to kill in the moment but the urge passes quickly enough. Not even your daughter though she tries my patience most of all some days. You'd have to ask Rakzhol if he's found anyone he'd consider killing. There have been a couple of challenges to his position with me." Kelson paused for a moment before continuing.

"I didn't know that Klingon crews carried psi rated personnel. I've been led to believe they view those of us with the gift with suspicion. Is that true or have times changed?"

Talon understood immediately. "Has she been bothering you?" he frowned, wondering if he needed to do something about that. "Technically, she and I both tested 0.0 for our psi abilities. I could not guarantee the accuracy of the test given the conditions, however. Fortunately, our Fleet Captain is content with the report as it stands."

Kelson nodded, having an answer from that. "Only in that she's a major contributor in the hazing. But as a newly minted first officer, I imagine she's eager to climb the pecking order and a new ensign provides the perfect opportunity. No, sometimes I hear her thoughts in my mind. She thinks too loudly at times. I don't think she knows that I've heard her."

The commander seemed troubled. "Has she been needlessly cruel, Kelson?" He seemed very concerned. "Her childhood experiences were not as well-balanced as they could have been."

"I suppose that all depends on your definition of needlessly cruel," Kelson answered.

Talon chuckled. "If you have to think about it, it hasn't happened yet," he answered.

"No, it hasn't," Kelson agreed.

"It's strayed close a couple of times," Rakzhol said, emerging from the shower. "There's one other that seems determined to provoke a major reaction from him. That one is perilously close to being put into his place," he growled, his muscles flexing involuntarily with the thought of the impending duel.

"Do what you need to do," Talon instructed. He looked back to Kelson. "Instructions from Kalahad aside, you will never have the peace to learn all that you need to learn until this unspoken challenge is faced. Continue to prepare yourself. Be rested. Ready. Do not allow the challenger to catch you off guard," he continued. "And it does not require a death blow. I discourage that, although with some Klingons, they would rather die with honor than live with the defeat. You'll have to decide which is more merciful, and which you will choose."

Kelson nodded, understanding what Talon was saying. At least it wouldn't be the first time he'd taken a life or fought a serious duel. "I don't want to fight your crew, Talon. But I do understand that they won't accept me as a part of them until I have faced and come through at least one challenge."

"There is something I need from you, Talon," Rakzhol said. "Security Chief K'ogen will not authorize use of the ship's fabricators to create two broad swords for Kelson and I to spar with. He states that he should devote all to the Klingon weapons he'll be using in the immediate future. But I won't have him lose his skill with a broad sword while he's here. The gravity is changing and building his muscles differently. It's imperative that he uses the sword during this time to keep his proficiency with it. Speak to K'ogen about it and at least 30 minutes daily for us both to practice with them."

Talon nodded. "I agree. I'll speak with K'ogen." He peeled himself from the wall and walked back toward the door. Looking back, he met Kelson's gaze. "Get some rest, young king. You have done what 20% of your age mates do not; survived the first week. Well done, so far."

And with that, he left.

The next morning, Kelson and Rakzhol reported to one of the small gyms set aside for the honing of martial skills, with nary but a scant cup a klah to fortify them beforehand. It wasn't always wise to expect one's reflexes to perform with a stomach full of complex proteins that the klingons favored.

Instead of Talon, however, they found the room occupied by his daughter.

K'talia was wrapping her wrists in a reinforcing leather when the door opened. She looked up, eyebrows furrowed, then went back to her wrapping. Although she was doing her best to project a professional demeanor, Kelson could easily detect her inner fury from across the room.

Rakzhol groaned internally. He didn't need to be gifted to feel K'talia's anger. He couldn't imagine how much Kelson was picking up. What was Talon thinking? Dropping the two of them together into one room to duke it out. Someone was going to get hurt this morning. Either that or the room would wind up getting destroyed if power got out of hand. He heaved a sigh in resignation and took his post position off on a side wall, midway between the two of them.

Kelson was surprised to see K'Talia there instead of Talon, and a bit disturbed by it. Being Mantarran born and bred, he highly disliked sparring against women. He didn't mind women sparring with each other, or learning the very basic moves from a male, but it galled him to have to fight full on with a woman. And K'talia would fight full on with him, that much he knew.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Commander," Kelson said as he began to wrap his own arms with protection. He could feel the fury radiating off of her this morning. Wonder what has her in such a mood this morning? Or is it simply having to be here with me? Truth be told, Kelson was getting very tired of the crew treating him as little more than a burden. It was true, he didn't know as much as they did, didn't have the experience they did but if this was the Klingon's version of loyally following the commands of their soon to be emperor, as king of Mantarra, he officially wasn't impressed.

"Good morning," she answered smoothly enough. In fact, as she began the lesson, the anger Kelson felt began to diminish. Perhaps he wasn't the target after all.

"The Commander wishes that we begin with a review of hand-to-hand techniques. To my mind, this begins with some thought to why we study them at all. In the age of disrupters, why even bother?"

She walked to the center of the mat. She was wearing snugly-fitting but highly flexible clothing which allowed her more freedom of movement. "Of course, you and I both know the answer. Battles are not always fought at a comfortable distance, and we do not always have the luxury of a weapon in our hands." She splayed her hands and fingers wide, showing how empty they were. Her long hair was snugly braided tight to her head this morning, he might note.

"I'm sure you've learned your own techniques. I am tasked to learn of them as well as show you what I have been taught."

She looked around the room, then nodded to Rakzhol. "If you could toss me that baton, on your left, Sergeant?" she asked.

Rakzhol pushed off from his position and tossed her the baton. Kelson watched suspiciously, his powers already beginning to build subconsciously in preparation of having to defend himself. Nothing like when he was angry, this was almost a whisper of a song on the breeze, the slightest shift of frequency that was easily missed if you didn't know to look for it. Rakzhol had served the Pendragon line his entire adult life and recognized it at once. It was, he thought, something that sparked the Klingons to fight/spar with Kelson more fiercely, though he was certain they didn't know it. He wondered how K'talia would react to it.

Kelson stripped off his outer tunic, leaving him wearing just his Mantarran shirt and arming trousers, which he had begun wearing to most of their training sessions as the most comfortable clothing he had on the ship with him. He stood waiting to see whether this was a demonstration, whether he should pick up a baton himself or be prepared to attempt to take hers from her.

"First," she began, "we will practice disarming each other. Whether or not you wish to take the weapon to use it against your foe, or simply take it out of play altogether depends upon several factors. My personal rule is to eliminate any advantages he has against me. Once we are fighting on even terms, then I will worry about getting the upper hand.

"That being said, my father often chides me for being short-sighted," she admitted.

She swung the 18-inch long baton easily, testing its weight. "So here we have it. Let's say - bar fight. For reasons you don't want to admit - you are without weapons and someone is coming at you with just a stick, like this. Your job is to disarm me or take the baton from me. I'm moving a bit slowly - as if already drunk. Ready?"

"Eliminate any advantages you have against me, eh?" Kelson said moving up into the circle properly. "Wouldn't the second half of that advice be to then gain the advantage over your opponent?" he asked, holding out his hand and calling the baton from hers to his. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were ready," he said with a smirk.

Her eyes opened wide! Cheater! He heard, mentally, loud and clear. In the next instant, she whirled and kicked at his wrist, blurringly fast, connecting with his wrist.

She continued the swing, regaining her footing and then rolling over to snatch up the baton again.

Kelson laughed and shook his now numb hand, squaring off against her again. "A bar fight, then is it? You aren't moving 'a little slowly' like a drunken bar patron. Not to mention that I've never been in a bar in my entire life."

She stared at him. "What?" she finally asked, with overtones of "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

His admission clearly stunned her. "What sort of place is Mantarra? Are you some sort of...monk?"

"There are plenty of bars on Mantarra and more than its share of drunks, but the crown prince...now the king, does not go into such places," Rakzhol said in a bored tone from the other side of the room.

"No, I'm not a monk," Kelson chuckled. "If the king wants a drink, the drink comes to him, not the other way around."

"I'm beginning to understand now," she said slowly. She approached, baton still in her hand, twirling it a few times, lazily. She moved closer, into his space. And poked his chest with her free hand. "You're a spoiled brat who couldn't survive a week out there-" she pointed off into the stars beyond - "alone." She paused, staring into his eyes. "What did you do to make your parents hate you so much? Why would they not want you to be ready to stand on your own? If a man, or a woman, cannot rule themselves, how can then a country or a planet be ruled by them? It makes no sense."

Kelson's good humor bled away into a cold fury, though not directed at K'talia herself. "What did I do? I was born with psi gifts that they themselves did not have. It was fear of my potential that made my parents, particularly my father, commit genocide on his own people and almost fratricide. So much so that Kalahad was forced to kill his twin brother to protect his youngest brother. They were advised by another who told them that if worse came to worst, they could arrange an 'accident' for me and my brother Korvath and replace me with a more normal nephew. That is why I have a guard with me at all times. I could not trust even my own father. In that, you are far luckier than I."

"But you too are playing the spoiled brat. Making yourself out to be this big threat. You are that, I have no doubt. But continuing to draw attention to it only makes it more predictable. And you have even less control over your psi abilities than I do."

"You know -nothing- about me!" she growled. "I have earned my place on this ship. More so than any other. And my psi gifts? A curse. A crutch. I do not rely on them. Father has taught me how best to hide them, that is all-" she paused, breathing heavily. Her defensive reaction was telling, and seemed to surprise even herself. Her eyes opened wide again.

"You are right." she said to his mind, as she turned her head away.

It was quiet.

He could smell her hair.

"Father told me...that I should be the one asking -you- to teach me," she finally said quietly. "Maybe that is what he meant."

Kelson took a deep breath and settled himself down. "I imagine there is much we could teach each other, if we could move beyond all this posturing for position and get down to it. Psi gifts can become a crutch, but only if you use them to the exclusion of every other ability. What I did wasn't necessarily cheating but it certainly wasn't honorable either. So teach me your lesson, and I will teach you a better way to shield your thoughts. You broadcast them when your dander is up."

She looked confused. "My -what- is up?"

"It means when you are frustrated or upset," he said with a chuckle. "Same for me, when I get angry, it just flows out from me. Sets everyone's teeth on edge and raises the hair."

She nodded in agreement, suddenly realizing how close she was standing to him. She backed up a step. "What you offer is fair. I swear before the stars to teach you the best I know how. Our honor shall be as one, in this." She took her eyes off his and bowed her head to him. A sign of trust.

"And I swear before the stars to teach you the best I know how," Kelson said, returning the pledge word for word to her. "On Mantarra, such an agreement is sealed by clasping the forearm of each other's weapon arm," he said, offering his open hand and arm to her. The sleeves of the shirt were opened at the cuffs, and when he did this, it revealed a deep red and black dragon tattoo that covered his entire forearm that almost seemed as though it was moving.

She watched his movement and then offered her arm, which was bare to her shoulder, save for wrist wrappings and a band about her upper bicep on her right. "I'm ambidextrous," she explained. But this hand is slightly better."

Spying the dragon, she was about to ask about it, when it seemed as if time slowed as their deal was sealed. She saw the battle, briefly, that he'd described; images, flashing fast, of Mantarra. A castle? Books. The sky. A sword. A storm? Fighting. Someone shouting. Waking, running in darkness.

K'talia gasped-

He saw a dark engine room. Catwalks and harsh words. Red lights. Pulsing dark. Sobbing. Hurrying. The Klingon sneering, turning away. The servant on the decking. Bleeding. Broken. The flash of steel. Purple haze of pain. Cannot die here. Not like this! His fist tightens on her throat and lifts her. Vision flickers. He smiles, slowly, her death in his eyes. Her hand to his face; three finger touch.

He screams.

She falls. Scrambles. Desperate.

The cut on his neck is clean. He bleeds and the light fades from his eyes.

K'talia jerked her arm away, trembling. What was that?

Kelson didn't jerk away, didn't move either, but he looked up at her startled reaction, still playing over what he had seen in his mind. Shared memories as we touched. The dragon is imbued with magic, keyed to the Pendragon line. When you touched it, it must have facilitated the link between us. Who was that? When was that?

"Rakzhol, see that no one else comes into this room right now," Kelson ordered.

"As you wish, my liege," Rakzhol responded, keying the door to lock and taking up position to bar the entryway with his weapons drawn.

"K'talia," he called to her, as he would call out to a spooked horse. "It's all right. I will tell no one what I saw."

She was still breathing hard, eyes a little too wide. She swallowed and tried to respond. He heard her mentally and aloud at the same time. "Lt-Commander K'yuvar. He would beat the servants. Threaten me with his eyes. He wanted command. To use me against my father. I...hunted him, often. Watched him. He would look for me. I could not sleep in my bed."

"That night, I heard the girl scream and I had to...I had to kill him. But I was not good enough..."

Kelson could feel her shame at admitting that. She closed her eyes, unable to speak aloud any longer.

"So I killed him. With my mind."

Kelson nodded soberly at her admittance, recognizing, from what little he'd been taught and what he'd gleaned since arrival here, that the Klingon culture would view that badly.

"It is a power that the gifted living in Avalon have; that my Uncle Merlyn has, this killing with the mind. Only the power, trained and used to its fullest, means that you can use your mind to stop a man's heart from beating. This is why training is required; discipline and the ability to discern whether death is justified and even if it is, whether this method is justified is something we have to learn and then square with our own sense of right and wrong."

"I would have used any means at my disposal to kill the bastard too," he added with a growl. "There is no honor in fighting, in attacking those weaker than you."

"I saw...felt...a battle. Was this when you went to rescue your uncle?" she asked.

"Yes," Kelson answered grimly. "I was asleep in bed. There was a terrible thunderstorm outside. I woke up to the sound of confused shouting and clash of steel on steel. I grabbed my sword and ran to the door of my room and Rakzhol stood there with Sedric, our seneschal, at his side. Rakzhol told me that Kalahad had arrived and attacked the castle. Sedric added that my father, Gwydion and the Archbishop had combined royal and church forces to attack the city of Avalon. Many had been killed; fallen while sacrificing their lives so that the women and children could get to safety at the Giant's Dance. I knew that Merlyn had been missing for two months. In that moment, it was suddenly clear why. Rakzhol had gathered a small company of loyal guards, twenty in all, and we made our way down to the great hall where the fighting was going on. Sedric took another company of men with him to ensure the safety of my brother, Korvath. We got to the hall in time to see Kalahad kill my father with his bat'leth. He picked up Excalibur, the sword of the king of Mantarra, but it wouldn't accept him. The steel heated and he was forced to drop it. When he saw me, he told me to take the sword and follow him. So I did. We fought our way through the traitorous army the archbishop had put together into the dungeons where we found Prince Merlyn tortured and imprisoned. We killed...I don't know how many. Magic was loose that night as well and the sword was singing. Then there was this dreadful stillness and all was over. Merlyn was transported to New London, to the medical center and I was taken to the Great Hall and declared king, making Kalahad my regent, before being whisked away to his ship. Within 24 hours of that moment, I found myself here with you."

K'talia felt the movement of that battle, as echoes of their sharing still lingered. The raw emotions. She closed her eyes, trying to sort them all out. The Archbishop. Did you kill him? Is he dead? She asked, anger for what he had suffered still swirled through her veins.

"He is," Kelson declared darkly. "Killed by Excalibur in the hands of the Crown Prince he'd thought to set aside for one more human," he spat out angrily. Kelson flashed an image through to her, of the way he'd left Excalibur behind, struck into the stone in the middle of the Great Hall, gleaming in the morning sun. He also sent a memory of the song the sword would give when held in the hands of the chosen king and those it deemed worthy.

"Good." She said with a matching, dark, finality.

Without another word, she moved closer, put her arms around him, and...hugged him.


	6. Chapter 6

Kelson was too startled to move for a moment, then put his arms around her as well. The hug brought her head just a few inches away from where the trilithium shard hung around his neck. Where the dragon tattoo magic had called to her, the crystal, not keyed for her by James, was like an irritant now that she'd gotten closer, feeling like crawling over her skin.

She'd rested against him, still sorting out the memories that were his - her brain felt like a tornado had rolled through the middle of it. The song of the sword that he'd shared with her faded...until it was replaced by an almost painful resonance. The one that caused her head to ache. She winced and drew back, her eyes drawn to the source, since it was so close.

"What is that?" she asked, aloud. "It hurts me."

She moved her hand closer to it, but dared not to touch it.

Kelson put his hand over the crystal, even though she hadn't touched it, to prevent her from doing so, whether accidentally or deliberately.

"This is Mantarran trilithium. Lord James gave it to me to wear while I was off-world, to keep me connected to the energy of the planet itself. You can feel it?"

She nodded. "Since the moment I met you. When I listen too closely to its 'song', it gives me a terrible headache. It's...part of the reason why I have sometimes not...been in the best of moods, around you." She confessed. "I've been learning to block it out, but so close, I cannot."

Kelson frowned and looked at her intently. "I've not heard that just anyone with psi rating can pick up on the song of the trilithium."

She smirked. 'Maybe it was attuned to keep women from hugging you."

Kelson outright laughed at that. "Maybe it was! No unapproved queens or heaven forbid royal bastards running around the galaxy. I can't imagine James doing that. At least, I can't imagine James thinking to do that without some input from another. Perhaps his lady wife, E'Katerina epetai-Kehar, may have had a hand in what the enchantment was keyed for," he suggested with a grin that said he really didn't believe that to be the case.

"And...will you be ruled by such restrictions, King of Mantarra? Always? I was going to at least take you to a bar before allowing you to leave this ship. One bar fight is not too much to ask, is it?"

"There is a freighter captain that works for Admiral Kincaid, who tells anyone who questions him on any inappropriate activity that 'that didn't happen and I was never there'. All pronounced with great sincerity and gravity. I think I can manage to affect the same sincerity and gravity. Besides, I've always wanted to know why so many people want to go to a bar in the first place. Kalahad wanted me to expand my horizons; if he didn't want me to use my own judgement, he should have been more specific."

Rakzhol rolled his eyes behind him, still leaning against the doorlock. Now that these two were friends, he sensed they were going to be getting into all sorts of trouble. The kind that will keep him, as Kelson's guard and by extension, K'talia's guard when she was with him, very very busy.

The thought of such mischief put a twinkle back in K'talia's very unKlingon-green eyes. "Well then. Now that we have a more exciting goal to aim for - shall we return to our sparring?" she asked.

"Definitely. Are we still at the bar fight scenario or are we saving that for a real life adventure?" Kelson asked, stepping back to a sparring distance from her.

"We're both Klingons. It's probably safe to assume, for any scenario...that someone is out to kill us, yes?" she asked, still teasing. But then again, not. She understood the dangers he faced. As the youngest officer and Talon's daughter, she herself was in constant danger from rivals, as well. "We will be faster. Stronger. Smarter. Better," she explained as they began to circle, twirling the baton occasionally. "There are 9 different ways you can try to get this baton from me...barring psi talents," she smirked at him. "Five of them are likely to get your arm broken. One would get you killed, or perhaps just your manly parts mangled. That leaves the three that would be most effective. You are stronger and you have reach on me-"

She shifted direction, tossed the baton into her other hand and swung for the side of his head!

His duck and roll was not what she expected. He caught part of her foot as she did a reaction jump over him, causing her to have to tumble back to her feet as well.

She turned. "Good. But I STILL have the baton."

She tossed it gently at him.

"Now, come at me. Points for hits. Least points has to buy the drinks."

Kelson knew next to nothing about martial arts and chose to go with some moves that mimicked fighting with short swords in the weapons arena in Camelot. He hefted the baton, trying to get a feel for the weight and balance of the weapon.

"Normally, it's considered bad form to hit girls with sticks," he joked as he watched her movements for a potential opening.

"Would it help if I insulted you?" she asked, with remarkable cheerfulness.

"Yes, actually, that would be rather helpful, thank you," he cracked back with a smirk.

She looked thoughtful as they slowly circled. "Let's see if this works. I saw it in an old earth film..." She cleared her throat. "You no-good, yellow-bellied, low-down, lily-livered, boot-lickin' jackel!"

Kelson laughed outright at that, but before he even finished laughing he took the baton in both hands and swung at her shoulder. She jumped back and as she did so, he released his hold with his dominant hand and swung backward, trying to catch her torso.

Instead of trying to avoid the second blow, she turned and caught it, both of her hands on his wrist, as she bent, allowing his forward motion to carry him further, then twisted his arm up behind him, pushing him forward more and trying to make him face plant into the mat.

Kelson stumbled forward more from the arm twisted up behind him as he hadn't expected that move. His leg muscles strained against falling and her weight, taking a couple of steps forward and managing to keep them both upright.

"Circle, boy!" Rakzhol called out sharply. "Don't stand there and let yourself be manhandled. Think about how a horse keeps trying to get away from its tethers!"

K'talia slammed the sharp of her kneecap behind his slightly bent knee and threw her weight straight down, trying to bend him back over her body, then roll free, forward.

The knee giving way set him off balance and he was forced to twist out rather than go over completely backwards.

They both came to their feet, each still holding an end of the baton. She grinned quite evilly.

Kelson shook his head a bit at the grin she was giving him then lunged forward, pushing the baton ahead and right back into her, followed with a body check to try to force her to let go.

Her eyes opened wide for a split second then she ...

Let go.

And curled up into a ball for him to trip over.

He was totally off guard when she released the baton and stumbled over her, managing to avoid stepping on her. He staggered and turned as he did, barely keeping his balance and put the baton out straight, one hand on both ends and shoved down onto her, to try to pin her to the floor.

She stumbled forward quickly, turning in hopes of giving Kelson a swift kick in the arse, only to find him charging AT her! She was able to barely get her hands up in time to hold the bar off over her body, but, off balance by his charge, she backpedaled so quickly he could not pin her to the ground.

Unfortunately for K'talia, her back ran into the wall.

The baton pressed closer. She pushed back. Defiantly.

Kelson pushed harder on the baton, using his weight to his advantage, seeking to lay it across her shoulders and pin her upper arms with it. Mindful of the fact that she _could_ play dirty, he shifted his feet, setting one foot outside of the opposite foot and leaned in, trapping her body and legs in place with his own.

"So how exactly does one end a spar such as this has become? Will you yield? Or will you fight until one of us is flat on the floor?"

Slowly, the bar was pressed further back, and her arms began to shake slightly from the effort of trying to keep him and his momentum from winning.

"It...was a good round. I...am...not...ready to yield," she said, stubbornly. She tried to move her feet but his trapping remained steady. There was simply not enough strength in her body to keep the baton from closing in on her body AND make a move to free her legs.

One of her arms was bending quite painfully. She winced and had to let it go lest she injure a tendon. With only one hand left on the bar, he could press his advantage.

Trapped.

Her free hand grabbed the front of his tunic and she leaned up and kissed him.

He was absolutely startled by the kiss and lessened the pressure just a bit in reaction. Then he realized he was having a different sort of reaction to her and immediately dropped the pressure and took two large steps back from her.

"K'ogen never ends our sparring matches with a kiss," he said a bit hoarsely.

"Lucky for us, hmm?" she laughed. She looked down and called the baton back to her hand with a good amount of psi ability.

Slowly she approached him, then offered the stick to him, tapping it on his chest lightly. "I concede. This was a good test. I'll work up some training exercises for tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow then," Kelson said, taking the baton from her. "Perhaps we can work on the psi ability too. The more used to an action you are, the less power you expend doing it," he offered with a shrug, not sure if she was interested still.

" _I would very much enjoy that, Kelson eptai-Pendragon,_ " she answered to his mind. Her words were warm, although, perhaps for Rakzhol's sake, she nodded professionally and walked to her duffel bag, picking up her stuff and preparing to leave.

Kelson nodded as well, pleased and a bit awkward on very unfamiliar territory. "Rakzhol, you can release the door locks now."

"Yes, my liege," he answered, doing so as he lightly shook his head at this new development. He bowed slightly when K'talia left the room then turned and fixed Kelson with a look.

"What?"

"Really? The Commander's daughter? Best get to the showers, my liege. Make it a cold one," he said, dropping his gaze for a moment to point out the difficulty before looking back at Kelson with a smirk only an experienced man could give.

Kelson flushed and shook his head, heading out of the door muttering under his breath in gaelic about impertinent bodyguards.

"I can still hear you," Rakzhol said after a moment.

"Be quiet! And don't breathe a word of this to anyone."

"Not a word," Rakzhol said, though he wondered what, if anything K'talia would say.

At the end of Kelson's first month of service, K'talia tapped him to join a raiding party on a ship they were following.

Rakzhol was so furious at the way the raid had gone and frustrated with K'talia's reaction to it that he knew he had to get away. He knew he was overreacting to the actual event but until he was able to get those emotions out, he wouldn't be able to explain. He trusted K'talia enough with Kelson to leave them together and went directly to the gym, picking up one of the replicated broadswords they had made and beating a training dummy into shreds with it.

Finally, he stood gasping for air, anger and fear dissipated by the extreme physical workout, the broadsword hanging limply at his side. There were some other enlisted in the gym and a few junior officers. All of them stood to one side, not sure they wanted to take him on right now. With a weary nod of acknowledgement to them all, he took the sword with him and went to shower and rejoin Kelson and K'talia.

K'talia brought Kelson with her for their debrief with Talon, as they reviewed what had happened on the pirate ship and Talon questioned the captive they brought back.

Kelson explained that he found it odd that all of the consoles were darkened on the ship. "Why would they take the trouble to do that when a raiding party has just boarded them? So I turned one back on and found the countdown just under a minute left. And I ordered the boarding party to get back to the ship. When K'talia reminded me that we hadn't found what we were looking for, I said we should bring him with us. Does he have the information you are seeking?"

Rakzhol rejoined them while Talon was still interrogating the captive. He gave K'talia a respectful bow of his head and took his usual position just behind Kelson.

Kelson shot him a questioning glance, asking without words how he was doing now. Rakzhol nodded that he was alright.

Will Cmdr Talon use his psi abilities to get the answers he seeks? Kelson sent in a tightly narrow message to K'talia.

Yes She answered, keeping her expression neutral. As well as the normal 'I'm a kick-ass Klingon don't fuck with me,' routine.

Talon had listened to their report, then nodded to K'ogen to have the prisoner brought. After Rakzhol had retaken his place, the prisoner was dragged into the room.

The prisoner was defiant; a human with the look of experience in the business. He was on his knees as K'ogen pushed him down. Talon walked over to him. Surprisingly, Talon kneeled down, looking at him, blond hair streaming down his back and shoulders, black leathers creaking.

"Bad day for you, captain. The battle was well-thought. I give you full marks. So far, you have earned my respect."

"It seems there is some glimmer of intelligence in your crew. Still, down to 40 seconds before they thought to notice anything wrong. Perhaps the Empire should consider some sort of education beyond weapons training," the captain retorted.

Talon smirked. "It was a green commander, with relatively little experience for the entire team. I do thank you for providing such a challenging training exercise."

Talon tilted his head and continued, 'As much as I appreciate your feedback in order to increase the power of my Empire, right now I would be far more concerned about your own situation, captain."

He allowed some silence to linger.

And leaned closer. "Who hired you, captain? In the game of reflection, the hired guns are the least valuable; the first to be discarded. The only question which remains, is how you will serve in the Black Fleet."

"If your troops are any indication of the quality of soldiers of the Empire, why would I care to serve in the Black Fleet at all?"

K'talia growled and made a fist, looking like she was going to interrupt-

Don't let him goad you into responding, Kelson thought to her. It's what he's trying to do.

She stopped instantly. Kelson could feel her rein in her temper, with some difficulty.

Talon continued smoothly. "Whether or not you will serve is not the question. Death comes for us all. Now, let us talk like civilized men. Who hired you? You gain nothing by withholding the information."

K'talia shifted her weight, allowing one of her shoulders to rest against Kelson gently. Thank you.

You're welcome Kelson returned, enjoying the slight touch although he did nothing to draw attention to it.

The captain gave Talon a small smile. "Civilized men now are we? If I have nothing to gain by withholding the information then tell me, Commander, what is it I have to gain by giving it to you?"

"You have lost your ship and your crew, Captain. What is it that you want to gain exactly?"

"You assume that I could not get another ship, another crew. How very provincial thinking you have," the captain responded. "The truth, Cmdr Talon. This runs far deeper than even you could imagine. The spiderweb is wide and far reaching and no one strand knows anything more than the intersection where we cross another strand. Is that what you want me to tell you? Whose strand crosses with mine? And what will that get you? I can't even tell you if mine is the vertical strand or the other is."

"But who would follow you, after you've miscalculated so abysmally, captain? How interesting. Crews are like soiled socks for you? You ruin one pair, and simply go get another?"

Talon reached over and placed two of his fingertips to the side of the man's face. Beads of sweat would soon appear on the captive's forehead. His eyes widened as Talon tore open the pages of the man's memories. He tried to protest, but a slight furrowing of Talon's brow in concentration made him cry out painfully instead.

"You see, Captain..." Talon murmured. "I hate spiders."

As he continued, ruthlessly gathering the man's memories from him, the man's eyes slowly dilated and he became quite still. At the end of three minutes, Talon removed his fingertips from his skin, and the man slumped over, barely breathing.

"He was hired directly by a woman from House Vrykis. An old house, with little power, but an ancient bloodline. The money seems to be funneled through accounts with some ties to House Dumas itself. It's an interesting puzzle."

"House Dumas?" Kelson asked sharply. "What would House Dumas need of a hired gun through House Vrykis? What was it they were supposed to be doing anyway? We've had little to no contact from them since I've been old enough to pay attention to such things. What are the affiliations of House Vrykis? You should cut his throat; he's dead regardless."

"House Vrykis is dying. Perhaps they are desperate. And as for House Dumas; sometimes just because the accounting goes their way, it may not be official. I would look to an official within Dumas, perhaps."

Talon looked at the dying man. "It was his choice to go crawling into the next life. Let him have as many minutes as remain to him to consider his folly." He stepped over the dying form, denying him the quicker, cleaner death. "Make no mention of Vrykis, even among yourselves," he advised, lowering his voice. "We know we have an agent aboard and have not been able to find who he works for. Until we know, take caution."

He kept walking. "Dismissed. For now."


	7. Chapter 7

* _mind speech*_

* * *

Talon looked at the dying man. "It was his choice to go crawling into the next life. Let him have as many minutes as remain to him to consider his folly." He stepped over the dying form, denying him the quicker, cleaner death. "Make no mention of Vrykis, even among yourselves," he advised, lowering his voice. "We know we have an agent aboard and have not been able to find who he works for. Until we know, take caution."

He kept walking. "Dismissed. For now."

MT~~~~MT~~~~MT~~~~MT

K'talia looked after her father, surprised, and then looked at the dying man. She frowned.

Kelson didn't like what Talon had to say about having an agent aboard ship. He wondered if Kalahad had known that bit of news before sending him to Talon. It made little difference now, but a spy in their midst would only set people against one another. That never ended well in his experience, limited though that was.

He drew his knife from his boot and stepped forward, quickly cutting the dying man's throat before anyone could stop him.

"There's no point to leaving him. His mind is gone and with it any consciousness that could suffer the consequences, as he put it," Kelson explained as he wiped off his blade on the man's clothing and resheathed it.

"I take it you didn't know there was an agent aboard?" he asked as he straightened back up. "I wonder what else Talon and Uncle Kalahad didn't disclose about this trip."

"I did not know...but there are ALWAYS agents, Kelson. To think otherwise is to be a fool. I'm sure Kal- Lord Kalahad knows this."

She watched the dying man bleed out, her brow still furrowed. She understood, belatedly, that even that was a small test for Kelson.

She looked up, meeting Kelson's gaze. _Talon finds the agents, and watches them. If you remove the agent, then you have to spend resources finding the replacement. Far easier to play dumb and feed the agent the information you want him, or her, to have. Does this make sense?_

 _I suppose. It does not sit with what I have been taught about so far. It makes me have some doubts about Kalahad's wisdom in sending us out here so far from Mantarran support._

"I cannot say I understand living under constant suspicion of everyone and everything around you, this expecting agents at every turn," he said aloud. "Is it like this all over the Empire? Or just on the ships? How the hell do you make any allies or loyalties if that is the case?"

"It is a fine balance to be walked, that is sure," Rakzhol offered. "To keep yourself open to suspecting anyone while still trusting your instinct to rely on those you've placed around yourself. And in turn, you must trust those directly beneath you to correctly judge those that they bring in. The best you can do is limit the risk; not eliminate it."

She nodded, agreeing with Rakzhol, and touched Kelson's arm. "This is not just about the Empire, Kelson. It's about life. If you were taught differently, I would suggest, respectfully, that you rethink it. It is not all black and white. I know that the House Dumas agent aboard this ship is very loyal to my father, despite the fact his first loyalties must always be with his house. Both men will be very sad if duty calls them to become enemies. Because of the respect they hold for one another, Talon trusts him to act as he must, but within the bounds of honor. And Talon will do the same."

Mentally she added, " _I disagree. I think this is precisely the lesson Kalahad wants you to learn. Shades of meaning shifts in relationships that can become understood in your bones. It must be lived to be understood."_

Kelson frowned, not sure he understood how all this could be true at exactly the same time. _I understand shades of grey, but not shades of loyalty._

She decided to answer him aloud. Taking a deep breath, she said, pausing to choose the right words, "Politics. The houses sometimes shift in power and alliance, and even allegiance. It can catch honorable men in difficult positions - how can you retain your commitments to both your house and commander? Does that not happen on Mantarra?"

"Not if I am understanding what you mean. All ship commanders in the Mantarran Navy owe their allegiance to the king. And the Houses are not so clear and defined as they are in the Empire. Family lines have inherited lands and titles, but even then they owe their allegiance to the king. That is the point of having all of the ruling nobles swear oaths of fealty."

She shifted her weight and asked, "Yet, what of the moment when Kalahad arrived, amidst the chaos? You had to run down corridors and all around you, men and women had to choose, at that instant, if they would side with the old king or the new. The true power of command is knowing even before they do which way they will decide. This is...difficult for me. Yet Talon does it as easily as he breathes. I'm not certain the skill can be taught or is just something you have within you. Some sense."

"I don't know," Kelson mused, clearly thinking that night over in light of this new information. "I had Rakzhol with me and his company of men. I trust him completely."

"Yet, did not Rakzhol himself, in deciding to protect and follow you, commit treason?" She glanced to Rakzhol with apologies- it was obvious SHE felt he had made the right decision.

"No. Well, I suppose technically you could argue that point ad infinitum with lawyers. But in my mind, no, he didn't. He upheld his oath."

"The oath of fealty is two-sided, K'talia," Rakzhol explained. "Gwydion broke his part of the oath by attacking the very people he swore to protect. When he did that, it released me from my part. I transferred my oath to the crown prince, who rose up to overthrow his treasonous father."

She nodded. "But, let me ask you this," K'talia replies, pausing until she knew she had his attention. "Your father, Gwydion, did what he -thought- was best for his people in eliminating a threat that he did not understand. Now," she held up a hand. "We know it was short sighted and wrong, but if his spirit were here, I wonder if he would not say that it was his duty to protect the masses against those born with ...this other power? He obviously was a man of his faith, even to the point of offering to sacrifice his two sons for that faith, in order to provide his kingdom with a new heir that could, to his thinking, be trusted." She took a deep breath. "We're moving far from my point; but here it is - you knew you could trust Rakzhol, and some others. It is that judgement that makes a good ruler. Kalahad sees it in you. Now you must understand enough of your Klingon brethren to be able to apply that sense here, as well."

Kelson visibly bristled at the explanation she offered of Gwydion's actions, even though he understood she was just using it to illustrate the point. "I understand what you're saying, K'talia. But I don't know if I will ever understand my Klingon brethren enough to do that. The constant pull between house loyalty and loyalty to the Empire itself is something I've always found baffling. The Houses are constantly shifting alliances and loyalties, competing with each other on a daily basis. Somehow it seems to work for the Empire. How… that I have no idea."

"The strongest survive the shifting. It's just...testing the strength of the leadership. It asks, 'do you deserve my loyalty?' again and again. Not daily, although I'm sure in comparison, it must feel that way." She looked away. "There will come a day when someone more worthy to hold my position will defeat me. It...keeps our ship strong." She sounded sad, though. He felt her inner fear.

"Strong, perhaps. It devalues the experience and wisdom that come with age and what our elders have to teach us," Kelson responded soberly.

"I agree," she replied. "And thus, the weakness of the race is revealed. And, the reason why an elderly Klingon is truly someone to be respected and feared."

Kelson heaved a sigh and shook his head. "So instead of learning from their elders, they prefer to kill them and sing songs about them. Not exactly the best long-term plan of growth for an Empire. I'll not allow Mantarra to go down that path, no matter what Kalahad has in mind. I'll not have some young officer try to assassinate Admiral Kincaid in a bid for power. Such an act would meet with an order of execution on Mantarra, for murder. Just because someone is strong enough, fast enough to overcome an officer doesn't necessarily follow that said person would be a more suitable officer than the first one. My apologies to present company and the path you took," he added, truly not wishing to offend her.

"No insult taken," she replied easily. "I feel strongly that I AM a better officer than he was. I would not have acted against him so early...had the situation not forced itself upon me."

 _I know I have yet to learn all he knew. I still believe what I did was right._

"Mantarra does not have to become like the Empire, Kelson," she added. "I believe, however, that it is desired that you simply understand this side of your heritage, so that understanding can be used as a strength."

"In the spirit of understanding, K'talia, I wish to offer an explanation for my reaction earlier," Rakzhol interjected. "The oath of fealty is meant literally, not figuratively. If Kelson dies and I live… I have failed in my oath bound duty. Perhaps even lost all honor depending on the circumstances. I understand that he must be exposed to danger and risk to truly ascend to the king I think he will be. I do. But … the near loss at a phaser rifle, something I cannot fight against, may not even be able to move between him and the shooter enough to protect him from getting struck… it made me concerned that I may not be able to uphold my oath while he is here. It made me doubt my purpose and usefulness to him here, where it is crystal clear at home. I was angry at myself for not predicting this would happen, for not acting quickly, seeing the danger sooner. I should not have taken it out on you."

She listened intently. "You have an impossible job, truly, Rakzhol.

Kelson nodded grimly. "It is an impossible job. Very few have what it takes to fill the role of royal bodyguard."

"Yet, for Kelson to be the leader he is meant to be...he will be in danger," she added. "Is there not that understanding? If Kelson chooses to take a risk, and he fails, how is that -your- fault?"

"It is also my duty to advise him when I think he is taking risks unnecessarily. To face them in his place when possible, as the King's Champion, if another has not been appointed to that role. It is only my fault if he dies and I yet live," Rakzhol answered. "The only exception is a duel arcane, one sorcerer against another, with terms to the death. In that, I would be blameless. Although I suppose that an honor duel, one man to another, would fall under the same category."

"K'talia. Are you saying that the only way to prove that I deserve loyalty, in the Klingon culture, is to survive any and all challengers? And that that never ends? That no matter what I learn, no matter what else I do, I will never be able to trust the klingons around me? That they will never trust me?" Kelson asked, alarmed that this could be true.

She frowned. "I'm not so sure it's as bleak as that."

"It sort of seems that bleak," Kelson said, shaking his head. "What other ways are there to secure loyalty here? Wealth? Lands? Titles? These are things that I could bequeath to someone who has done extraordinary service to the crown, as a reward."

"Oh, there are rewards. I was raised in an estate my father was gifted from a house he served in his youth," K'talia quickly offered. "And, I must say, there ARE ties between Klingons that do not shift even as politics shift. Family bonds are one of them, although not always true, mind. Serving aboard a starship is one of the most tricky situations in the Empire, as it does not rest in one single territory. I think if we were to visit Kronos the situation there might feel more familiar to you in terms of political know-how." She glanced at Rakzhol, wondering if he would agree with that assessment.

"It might be," Rakzhol hesitantly agreed. "Although I think that the Great Houses on Kronos are similar to the dukedoms of our own kingdom, they hold much more autonomy than the dukes do. But you would see more of the type of behavior you're accustomed to, my liege, even if it would be just as dangerous for you there as it is here on the ship."

"Do the starships align with the families of their commanders or to the House of the Emperor?" Kelson asked.

"We all, of course, answer to the Emperor," K'talia explained, pausing before they exited the room. "More powerful houses fund their own fleets within the Klingon navy. Other houses may have a ship command and most of a single vessel to rely on. Some can only place an officer here or there. It is the Klingon way to continue to struggle, so that the strongest rules. There is never complacency. Never -peace- as the Federation wishes it to be. A Klingon who says he wishes peace with you, if you are not already in a relationship of respect, likely considers you too weak to be a bother. It can be taken as an insult." She looked at Kelson. _I'm making this more confusing now, aren't I?_

 _No, that much I follow._ "I guess that leaves Mantarra stuck in the middle. We desire competition so that complacency doesn't breed but though we train in preparation for a war, we do not want one. Not amongst ourselves and not amongst our neighbors."

"The Mantarran fleet is funded entirely by the crown. No individual family or dukedom owns any of the vessels. The only peculiar part is that Lord James owns the trilithium mine personally and that was done on purpose. So in that way, everyone on board one of our ships is equal in that respect; all are on board a ship owned by the kingdom itself."

"The Emperor is, himself alone, not as powerful as he was personally in the past," K'talia said carefully. "The centuries have forced changes, some of economic necessity. Talon could give you a better understanding of the hows and whys of that situation, and why there is a Council now."

She turned to face both men once more. "I must return to the bridge. Shall I see you both for sparring in the morning?" she asked.

"Of course," Kelson answered with a grin as Rakzhol nodded in agreement. "Wouldn't miss a chance to have my ass kicked by you again."

"Although we are, now, one training dummy short," Rakzhol admitted with a shrug. "It died an inglorious death by my broadsword, I'm afraid."

The younger two glanced at him, and K'talia smiled. "Serves it right for taunting you in the first place," she joked. To Kelson, her reply was mental. _Be careful, young king, or next time I may kick more than your very handsome backside._


End file.
